


through the night's uncertainties

by IsleofSolitude



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Life in a day, M/M, Mosaic, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude
Summary: ~I would love you more if you were someone who could love me. (buy your love by playing make believe.)~In most ways, Eliot is the most giving person Quentin has ever met. From the beginning, Quentin was caught off guard that the reserved, elegant snooty upperclassman was so generous--not only to Margo, which made sense, but to all the physical kids, and to Quentin himself for whatever reason.





	through the night's uncertainties

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt from el-and-q  
> "I would love you more if you were someone who could love me. (buy your love by playing make believe.)"

In most ways, Eliot is the most giving person Quentin has ever met. From the beginning, Quentin was caught off guard that the reserved, elegant snooty upperclassman was so generous--not only to Margo, which made sense, but to all the physical kids, and to Quentin himself for whatever reason. He gave affection easily, in all forms: pats on the head, arms around shoulders, claps on the back; and was just as free with compliments (though this was reserved for Margo and Quentin, not the rest of the students).

While everyone chipped in for the parties, there was no way that their funds were enough for everything that Eliot mixed and dished out--where Eliot got his money from, Quentin could only guess, but he knew that Eliot often bought most of the supplies and never charged for anything. 

Now, here in Fillory where they had only each other, Quentin was amazed at just how much Eliot had in him to just  _ give _ . The older man cooked breakfast and supper and swapped lunch duty daily. They both preferred the left side of the bed, but somehow Quentin was always given it. There was always tea ready on rainy days, and oil for his wooden shoulder during the summer. 

Eliot had always been a tactile person, but before they were here in their little cottage day in and day out, Quentin couldn’t even fathom what that had actually meant. There were constant touches: fingers brushing over shoulders hips arms hair as they passed, knees knocking together as they ate and feet bumping as they sprawled across the ground after a long day of questing. There were kisses on the forehead, on the top of the head, peppered over his face on his hand his shoulders; fingers tangling idly as they thought or worked or rested. 

Quentin had never thought of himself as touch starved before--had known that he was a cuddler and relished in being able to feel loved by his partner--but he had not realized just how many ways there was to be physically affectionate, how good it felt to have those little touches throughout the day.

Eliot was the most generous person he knew.

And yet...sometimes.

Sometimes Eliot was so closed off that Quentin felt cold all over.

Like now. Laying in their bed, as the snow fell around their house, a small fire dying as the stars rose higher. They hadn’t been able to work on the mosaic today, the ice had made sure of that. They had spent the day reading, doing what minor work they could, and talking before they had decided to spend the rest of it in bed to keep warm.

Despite having been together all day, Eliot had fallen quiet somewhere after their fifth orgasm. Despite Quentin’s legs in between his and Quentin’s hand resting on his hip, Eliot wasn’t there with him.

“El...talk to me.” His curls, his hips, his shoulders were begging to be stroked, touched, squeezed, but there was a knot in Quentin’s throat that froze his hand in place. “What…” He swallowed, hiding his face in the shoulder that he wanted nothing more to do than kiss. “Did I...do something?”

Eliot was quick then, moving in a way that somehow didn’t seem awkward despite their tangled limbs, and hovered over him. “Fuck, Q...no. Never. This isn’t…” A pained look crossed his face, and then he lowered his forehead to his lovers. “Don’t for a second think that.” 

(And then they were moving again, Eliot leading him to a crest of pleasure again and again until his limbs were heavy and warm and sleep claimed him. He heard him, Quentin tried to always hear Eliot now that he know how to listen, heard him whisper that no matter how much eliot loved quentin, that quentin could never match that, and that was okay because Eliot didn’t mind, Eliot just wanted to stay would that be okay?

Quentin was good at listening, but he wasn’t good at remembering---he drifted into sleep before he responded, dreamed of loving Eliot, and woke up beside him with nothing but a smile and the memory of being loved.)

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes, the title is from "Can you feel the love tonight" because "he's holding back, he's hiding" and oh man how perfect would that au be)


End file.
